The Tank
by stuckatschool
Summary: The conference was there to help students at Grimmington University get investors for their projects. Gaston's best friend Belle is instead the one to gain interest from a very powerful investor. Now if only he could get her name. Rumbelle. AU. Oneshot.


I have been lurking in the Rumbelle ship for awhile now, but finally got inspired enough to write my own work. This idea actually came to me while I was at a similar event with my roommate. I was fairly bored.

Enjoy

* * *

Getting to Grimmington University had been no easy feet. Annabelle " Belle" French had come from very unimpressive and meager beginnings.

Born in a small town in Australia to a lovely, caring mother and a kind, if not slightly bumbling, father, Belle had an uneventful childhood. Small house, small yard, affectionate parents. The first and truly only thing to change how little Belle saw the world was when her mother died. It was a blow to her then 13-year-old life. From that moment, her life became about taking care of her father. It might sound sad, for what teenager should ever have to watch over their parent? But Belle wasn't any teenager. She was always older than her years and so stepping up to the responsibility was a smoother transition for her than it may have been for others. And, truly, if you were to ask, she thought she was doing quite well. Her father was not quite himself, probably would never be again, but at least he went out again. Talked and even laughed every once and a while. Everything was slowly returning to some version of normal.

Then her father announced his intention of moving to the small, rainy town of Storybook.

In Maine.

Belle was sure she looked like a cartoon character, doing a spit take with the glass of orange juice she was drinking.

" But . . . Papa. America? We are doing fine here. At home." she tried to reason, wiping down the mess, while her father dabbed at the drops that had made it to his side of the table.

" Belle, I want more than fine for you! I want you to go and be something greater than a caretaker. And don't argue with me that you are not. I am old, not dumb. No. You and I need to go somewhere new. Somewhere not full of shadows and memories to follow us around." Maurice French replied, looking earnest and excited for the first time in 3 years.

Belle sighed and sat down, suddenly loosing her appetite as she pushed her breakfast away. She wanted to argue that there were no shadows following her, only reminders of the happy times she lived with her family, but deep down, she knew her father needed this.

And so she would go.

She would say teary goodbyes to her friends. She would pack all her precious books into boxes and board the flight and help organize the new apartment above the new flower shop her father had bought. (She would also pretend to be excited when her father informed her of this new business, instead of pointing out she had never seen her father grow anything more than the mold on old cheese)

Belle would work hard in her studies. She would avoid the few parties she was invited to by her classmates, and always be home on time to help her Papa at the shop.

It wasn't until senior year started and her counselor asked Belle want she wanted to do that Belle broke out of her good-girl auto pilot and seriously considered what she was doing with her life.

The obvious answer would be to graduate and help her Papa in the shop. They didn't have the money to send her to a fancy college, and even if they did, what would she even study?

The correct answer came to her on one of her nighttime walks around the town.

Starting from the moment she moved to the sleepy little town, Belle had been entranced by the nighttime quiet and peace the dark had to offer. She didn't really worry about anything happening to her, since in the 2 years she had been there, the only time the sheriff was called about anything was the occasional vandalism to the town's pawnshop.

And so, on a night where Belle could get no sleep, stuck laminating her future, she put on a coat against the cool fall air, and walked herself downtown. A favorite haunt of hers was the old library. It was gorgeous and old and totally abandoned by the town for years once budget cuts had to be made.

Belle always wished she had seen in its prime, beautiful and new, filled with people and books. It could be like that again, she always thought, if only someone would take the time and effort to start.

In that moment, Belle had a wonderful idea.

The next morning, she knocked on her counselors door and asked about becoming a librarian.

Her counselor, a nice if not slightly nervous woman named Mrs. Potts, loved the idea. She began to list all of the colleges and universities that could offer her the credentials she would need. It wasn't until she turned around from her messy desk, hands filled with brochures, that she saw the teary face of Belle French.

" I can't afford college. Even if we pulled together the money, my dad would be alone at the shop!"

Mrs. Potts quickly intervened.

" Young lady! You are the top of your class. Perfect attendance, perfect GPA, and you volunteers at the animal shelters in your free time. The scholarship hounds will be begging you to let them fund your education!" she proclaimed, a laugh in her voice and she handed a tissue to the crying brunette.

Belle nodded politely, and headed home, not sure what to think.

Mrs. Potts was probably right. If she looked and applied for them, the scholarships were available. But how can she just leave her father?

That night, Belle laid on her bed, looking at the brochures. At the sound of a quiet knock upon her door, she scrambled to push everything under her pillow before allowing her father to come it.

Maurice slowly closed the door behind him and walked over to her bed to sit down, not saying one word.

After a prolong period of silence, Belle finally couldn't take it.

" Papa?" she asked, scooting closer to him.

Her Papa sighed before turning to Belle.

" I got a call from your school today. A Mrs. Potts?" he started.

Belle held her breath, unsure of where this conversation was going.

" She explained how you want to become a librarian and go to college, but didn't think you could"

His tone was fair from accusatory, and it didn't sound disapproving either. It was like he was confused and sad.

" Belle . . . Why haven't you mentioned any of this? If it's something you want, there is always a way." He said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Belle didn't know how to react.

This was her issue.

She didn't want to talk about it, not because she thought he would say no, but because she was terrified he would say yes. Her father was a dreamer. Believed that if there is a will, there is a way. Belle knew he would give up everything to see her dreams come true, but she didn't **_want_ **him to give up anything.

" It's okay papa. I am happy to help out here. I love this store. I love _you_." she said in response.

Her dad just chuckled and hugged her closer. Tapping on her head with his finger, he replied

" Annabelle French. You think I don't know how that head of yours works? You are selfless, honey. Everyone before you. But that isn't what your mother would have wanted. It's not what I want. I want you to be able to go out and do whatever it is that makes you happy."

Belle rubbed her eyes to discourage the tears that were threatening to fall.

" Papa, what about the shop? And the costs. . . "

" The shop will be fine. We have been doing well, considering we are the only florist in town. I can easily handle business by myself. And if it comes down to it and I need to hire extra help or close a few days a week, that is not going to hurt us." he father interrupted.

Belle moved to reach for the brochures, sorting through before finding a specific one.

Handing it to her father to look over, she voiced the thoughts she had been storing away in the back of her brain.

" Grimmington University is only a 30 minute commute and has a nationally ranked librarian studies program. I could schedule classes so that I could still help and that way, we wouldn't have to worry about boarding costs." she shyly presented, revealing how much thought she really had put into this.

Her father continued to look at the literature, before turning to Belle.

" And this is what you want? You could go anywhere, sweetie. Distance isn't an issue"

Belle held his gaze and gave a teary smile as she nodded, in disbelief that her dream was so close.

" Then Grimmington University it is."

* * *

It felt like forever ago that Belle allowed herself to believe in her dream.

Instead, it was four years later, and Belle was entering her last semester. Life seemed to rush past her.

Signing up for her first classes, meeting the eccentric Ruby and tough Emma, two girls who would quickly become good friends and even attending the odd party, such as the one where she was introduced to the charming Gaston Lebeau. At first, she thought he was going to be another stereotypical frat boy, looking to score with the mousy brunette. That was before she met his clumsy and adorable boyfriend, Marty Foule. From then on, he became her closest friend, one that was regularly welcomed into the French home for family dinners and, once her father had been assured of Gaston's commitment to his partner, sleep overs.

It was because of that close friendship that Belle was standing backstage, prepping Gaston for the project he had been building for the last three months.

Gaston was a physical therapy major, with an emphasis on sport injuries. In the beginning of his freshmen year, he had the idea of designing an app that could be linked to the body to read exactly where pain was radiating from, for patients, since he had noticed that many patients where unable to completely describe the feeling, which made therapy much more difficult.

Not knowing much about apps or programing, Gaston had mentioned the app in passing to Belle, but then thought not more of it until 3 years later, when Belle mentioned Grimmington's annual " Fairy Tales Come True" conference, where student pitched ideas to investors to receive funding.

Belle was convinced that, with the right help, Gaston could not only get the funding and support, but could make his idea a reality.

And so, after planning and designing and no small amount of help from the universities neighborhood computer wiz, who went by the name " Mad Hatter" and demanded payment in the form of Emma Charmont's cell number and class schedule, here they were, at the final event.

With only 6 other contestants making it to the final stages, Belle felt absolute confidence in her friend, which was good, since at that moment, Gaston had none.

" Did you see them? I saw them" he stated, pacing back and forth, tugging on his tie and biting his nails.

" No, they had already entered their briefing room before I got here. Stop messing up the tie that you made poor Marty fix 8 times before you got here" she said, sitting calmly on the couch. She checked her phone to see if said boyfriend had texted her back, as he was suppose to go get water to calm the hunking mass of nerves that was Gaston.

" Yeah, well, you are lucky. Four sharks, that's what they look like. Ready to feed on us as we fight for the chum" He replied, collapsing next to her.

Belle finished her text, telling Marty that if he didn't get back soon, she was going to slip Gaston some of her father's muscle relaxers, and then replayed that statement in her head.

" Wouldn't. . . you be the sharks and them fishermen in that analogy?" she questioned, cocking her head to the side.

Gaston gave her a scathing look

" Really?"

Belle shook her head and refocused her attentions to prepping Gaston. Grabbing his face and pressing there foreheads together, she stared him down with her impossibly blue eyes.

" Listen to me, Gaston Lebeau. You have prepped for this. Weeks of research and planning and practicing, all into this moment. If you get it, great. The first step in done and the hard part starts. If you don't get it, Fine. Fuck them. They don't deserve your time or efforts anyway. You are going to be great."

Belle didn't normally curse, but something about the word 'fuck' coming out of her, a tiny 4 foot 10, brown haired Australian women, always seemed to make Gaston smile.

Gaston nodded, a quick chuckle escaping his mouth before he closed his eyes to relax.

They were brought out of their intimacy by the clearing of the throat of one crowd-weary boyfriend, possessing two bottles of water and a smirk.

" Should I leave you lovebirds alone or can we finally get some water into the meat-head before he sweats out all his fluids?" Marty asked.

Belle chuckled and lifted herself off the couch, relinquishing her seat to the short man who all but forced the water down his boyfriend's throat. She peaked out of the curtain to see the university's massive auditorium filled to the brim with students, teachers and townspeople of all ages. Knowing that it was going to start soon, she turned back to Gaston, who looked significantly less stressed.

"Okay, I'm going to head to my seat. I will be up in the VIP section, right up front, cheering you on and possibly sneaking some snack since I didn't get lunch."

Blowing them a kiss, she left to climb the impossibly long stairs.

Belle regretted wearing the pumps halfway through the trip, and had to take a break on the second landing to readjust the strap on her heal.

Unfortunately for her and another patron, she lost her balance and went stumbling into a hard chest. She heard the clank of something heavy hitting the floor before two strong arms wrapped around her to steady themselves.

Belle was quick to apologize, hurrying to pick up what the man had dropped. She couldn't see him, with her long curls blocking her view as she bent over, but she defiantly heard the thick Scottish accent of the man next to her, berating her for her clumsiness.

" Really, dearie. If you can't walk straight or handle those unnecessary heals, maybe it is better for you to seclude yourself away from people so as to not be a public menace for the rest of society. And another thing-"

Belle jolted up, hoping that giving the cane to the apparently grumpy old man would shut him up and allow her to escape his presences.

Looking at her abuser, she suddenly felt so wrong at her assumption of the grump's age. Old he was not, but man he most certainly was.

Taller than her, which was not difficult, she had to slowly drag her eyes up to meet his, and she took her time, admiring the dark, three- piece suit, made of entirely dark colors, the way his hand tightly on the cane that was now back in his possession and how his throat bobbed as he swallowed heavily once her gaze reached his face.

The male in front of her had stopped his tirade mid sentence once their eyes made contact and his deep brown eyes widened as they took in her beautiful blue ones, along with the rest of her.

Recovering in his moment of silence, Belle realized that one of his hands was still firmly wrapped around her waist. When she tried to step away to regain her senses, the grip tighten momentarily before his brain realized what his hand was doing and he slowly receded his appendage from her form.

The man cleared his throat.

" Well. I see that you have regained your balance" he said, still looking intensely at her.

" I really am sorry, Sir. I was in a rush to get to my seat before the event stared. I didn't hurt you, did I?" she questioned, noticing how he leaned heavily on his cane.

" No. No. I apologize. I, too, am in a rush and took my displeasure at the length of these stairs out upon you. No harm has been done" he replied, now blushing at his earlier comments. Belle merely smiled at him.

A voice cut through their bubble, announcing that the event was to begin in 15 minutes and everyone was encouraged to find their seats.

Belle looked at the last leg of the trip and saw the VIP section at the top. Turning to the man, she noticed him looking to the bottom.

" Well, if you are heading up, we should get going. Do you. . . already have a seat?" she addressed him, not yet ready to lose her time with this mystery man.

At his look of confusion, she tried to make her question more clear.

" Because, I know the seat next to me it empty and wouldn't mind some company up there?"

The man looked at her, lighting up once he understood her offer, before a dark look of disappointment took over. Belle could feel her heart clench as she prepared herself for rejection.

'_ What were you expecting, Annabelle? Foe him to want to sit next and talk to a random girl that almost just plowed him over?_' she thought to herself.

" The offer is most exceptionally tempting, but I am afraid my seat in located on the lower floor. And I really must be getting to it if the show wants to start." he explained, a sad smirk upon his lips.

" Of course. Well, I apologize again for everything. I hope you enjoy yourself." she said, very diplomatically. Just as she turned to leave, she felt her hand be taken into a grasp.

" I am Randolph, for the record" he said, obviously looking for a name to call her by.

Just as Belle was going to give him her name, another announcement called for all investors to head towards the stage and for the audience to find their seats.

In that moment, life felt like a fairy tale, only this time Cinderella ran up the stairs while the man was left to look back after her as he paced down them.

Belle barely made it into her seat before the lights dimmed and the announcer begin introductions to the whole event.

When the investors took to the stage to make themselves comfortable in the cushy chairs provided while they and their businesses were introduced, Belle look forlornly at the empty chair next to her.

It wasn't until she looked up at the stage that she froze and swore for a minute that her heart stopped.

As he was introduced as a man who made his fortune in Scotland, before moving his business ventures to America, with companies both large and small in towns all over the eastern coast, Belle watched Randolph Gold give a curt nod to the audience before his attention landed up in the VIP section, and more specifically, upon her.

Or, at least that is what it felt like. But of course it would be ridiculous to think that this powerful man would actually pick her out of a crowd, more so to think that he actually looked. . . pleased that he spotted her.

Gaston's nerves must have gotten to her head and she flagged down one of the servers of the VIP section and asked for the glass of water to cool her insane brain down.

* * *

The whole event seemed like a was of his time. And as the old saying goes, time is money. And his time came at a high price.

Still, Gold wasn't one to risk passing up a possible profitable idea.

And so, he dragged his aching knee to the conference, mentally preparing himself to sit on a panel and hear the ramblings of that damned Lady Bleu, a professional socialite, the simple Sydney Glass, a newspaper mogul and underling of the always scheming Regina Mills, who always enjoyed giving him her mothers regards, reminding him of one night that he discovered no amount of alcohol would ever wipe from his memory.

Gold desperately needed a break from the stifling atmosphere of the briefing room, where the other investors talk gossip and made snide remarks at him while trying to pretend to be the height of politeness.

Upon discovering the only place he was likely to find any amount of alcohol was the VIP lounge on the balcony of the center, he curse his luck, but braved the stairs anyway, preferring the pain in his knee to the pain of having to face the rest of the night without any amount of liqueur in his body.

After making it to the top and choking down the low-quality scotch they had on hand, Gold braced himself and began his descent back into his metaphorical hell.

What he wasn't expecting was to run into a very real angel on the landing.

Apparently an angel who obviously had not sense of balance and was subjugated to his verbal abuse early on, but an angel never the less.

One with chestnut colored curls, a tiny but well-dressed body and eyes so large and blue, that he thought he was looking at a stress- induced hallucination at first.

It had been years since any woman truly caught his attention. He hadn't even let himself look at a woman, beyond what he thought she had to offer psychically, since his demon of an ex-wife left him, broke and hobbled, early in his life. However, with his arm carefully wrapped around her, at first to keep her form falling and suing him, but now to prolong the sense of warmth coursing up his arm and flowing through the rest of his body, he felt a small amount of pleasure filling his system. She moved to pull away and his first reaction was to bring her closer. She was so small. He could easily pull her completely into him. Caress her soft looking hair, feel the curves her dress displayed, share the warmth she was admitting. . .

He cleared his throat and curse his body's reaction. Apparently, years of celibacy turned him into a hormonal teenager again.

He stumbled his way through the conversation, listening to her unique accent-tinted voice, and once he noticed that she seemed to not only be inviting his advances, but himself up to sit with her, he felt a spark of joy. He could sit and spend time with the intriguing women. Maybe buy her a drink in the lounge. If she was as pleasant company then as she was now, they could even possibly attend dinner after this ghastly event was over.

At that thought, he remember that he was a major player in this event and had no choice but to reject her invitation.

She looked downright disappointed at his negative answer, which just made him all the more annoyed at having to be apart of the whole idiotic process.

When she turned to leave, he couldn't allow it without some kind of connection to her, one that he could use to find her later.

His offer of his name, one he rarely gave out to anyone, was welcomed, but, in some cliche twist of fate, she had to hurry along before returning the favor.

Gold brooded his way back down the stairs, into the office, all the while thinking of the connections he had at the university that could get him her contact information.

It wasn't until Regina observed, with quite the snide tone, that he looked like he was plotting something evil, that Gold realized what he was doing.

Fawning obsessively after some young thing he had met for a moment? How desperate was he? He knew nothing about her. Not her name, or even her age.

Her age.

Dear lord, there were students from all ages attending here. She looked old enough, no more than 23, but then he had seen 16-year-olds that looked like they could blend in perfectly in college campuses.

He might have been mooning after a baby. After all, in his 46 years, anyone less than 30 was basically a child in his eyes anyway.

Gold calmed his racing mind. He would do nothing to seek her out. If it was fate, and he believed in such because he knew she was a cruel bitch, than there paths would cross again.

His introduction to the crowd and attempts to get comfortable for the next three hours distracted him slightly, but not enough.

He was a selfish man and could not resist the temptation of looking up toward the VIP section. He consoled himself, saying he would just glance, not see her and dismiss her for the rest of the night.

Of course, how was he to know that she would be seated at a front table, and that he would find her immediately?

But she was, and he did, and so he was hooked for the rest of the night.

Gold knew the process well enough. The applicator would be brought onto stage, be given 5 minutes to present their product, and then 5 more minutes were given to discuss and bargain with investors for funding.

This years contestants had little to offer him.

An independent clothing deign store, a pillow designed to stay cool, even one person who dreamed of owning a food truck specializing in ice-cream ( wasn't that just an fancy ice-cream truck?)

All utterly boring to him and he passed, without questions, on all of them.

During each presentation, Gold would hazard a glance towards the young woman, watching as she would make faces. Some, she showed interests in and nodded with agreement when his fellow investors asked questions regarding financials and sustainability. Others, she would seems confused or disappointed in. But he was impressed, for not matter how little interest she held in the product, she always gave her full attention and applauded for the person's effort.

It wasn't until the last presenter that he saw a change.

When he walked onto the stage, she cheered loudly, clapping and smiling so much, that Gold felt a gurgle of jealously in the pit of his stomach.

Part of him wanted to reject the boy right out of the gate, out of pure pettiness and jealously for having the attention and smiles that he desired.

But if this man was attached to the woman in some way, maybe he could make an offer.

After all, the idea was solid. It wouldn't go out of use, and with trademarking the technology, it could grow as technology advanced. If Gold offered to negotiate with him on a deal, he could perhaps worm in some more time with the woman while also making himself money.

It was win-win.

Except that it wasn't. If the pretty young lady was as charming as he suspected, which was highly likely considering she had started to thaw his frozen heart with a few words and smiles, than it would pain him to see her attached and happy with a young, strapping reminder of everything Gold lacked.

In the end, he was a glutton for punishment, maybe masochistic considering how long he stayed married to Milah.

Gold gave him a bid, and asked to discuss the detail of the deal after the event had ended.

* * *

Rooms had been set aside for the purpose of negotiating between the investors and the participants that got a bid. Investors such as Bleu and Mills, who bid on multiple products had people constantly entering and exiting their rooms.

Gold, however, waited patiently, poised and collected, for Gaston Lebeau to enter his room.

When he did, he nervously scuffled to the seat across from the intimidating man and kept quiet, waiting for Gold to talk.

Gold took a sick satisfaction knowing that he held power over the man who had her.

" So, Mr. Lebeau. You idea was very interesting. I could see it making both of us a lot of money in the future." Gold started, gently taping his finger on the handle of his cane.

" And also help a lot of people, right?" Gaston said, meant as a joke. The frown on Gold's face told him that he wasn't found funny.

" Are you insinuating that I am only interested in the money instead of the benefits it could given to modern medicine?" he asked slowly.

Gaston sputtered and shook his head, but Gold waved him off with an eery chuckle.

" Well, you are right. I can't say I care much for people. But money. Now that has always interested me. Now tell me, did you design this program all upon your own?"

Gaston twitched nervously under the scrutiny of the business man.

" Not exactly. Jefferson March helped design the actual program. But you don't have to worry about him. He voluntarily signed away any claim." Gaston explained quickly, noticing the displeasure upon Gold's face.

" And why would he do that?" Gold ask suspiciously.

Gaston didn't know how to phrase it, so he told the blunt truth.

" He is interested in a friend of a friend, so I gave away her contact information in exchange."

Gold didn't know what to say a first.

" That might be the stupidest deal I have ever heard." was what he decided on.

Gaston laughed nervously.

" Yeah, my boyfriend said the same thing, but Jefferson is a bit quirky and we asked the girl before giving him anything so. . . " Gaston trailed off, not sure what else to say.

Gold jolted at the term boyfriend. It meant he was not romantically attached to the blue eyed woman.

" I do have to ask. I ran into an acquaintance of yours and want to know your relationship with her before our discussion can go any farther."

" I don't understand. . " Gaston started to say, before he was cut off.

" You were not put on this earth to understand, dearie. Now, the person in question is a young lady, brown curly hair, blue eyes, not very tall?" Gold replied, trying to make his description as neural as possible, so as to not give away his interest.

Gaston looked apprehensive for a moment, clearly wearily about giving out personal information to a relatively unknown person.

Finally, his desire to see his dream realized won out.

" Belle. Annabelle French. She's a good friend. My best actually, we have been friends since we were both freshmen together. Is everything okay with her?"

Gold understood that to mean that she was also a senior in the university, putting her somewhere in the age range of 21 to 23. Perfectly acceptable for him to approach.

Gold relaxed in his chair and gave a sinister smile.

" Perfectly so. That matter is closed and is not to be discussed again, not between us and certainly not between her. Instead, let us talk about getting you the money you need. Yes?" Gold asked.

Gaston nodded and they began taking about the financials needed to launch his app.

Still, in the back of Gaston's mind, he couldn't help but be worried about the manic amount of glee the man was showing. He could mention it to Belle, but really, Gold said the matter was closed and Gaston was sure this was just a weird conversation that he would forget about soon enough.

* * *

I will probably write a sequel when I get the time. In the meantime, tell me what you think, or what you want to happen next :)


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